JXHQ: Preoccupied
by thechokesonyou
Summary: (Comic/Cartoon universe.) Joker can't help but think about hurting her. She's just... so... tempting. (Subtle and sensual, references to abuse and sexuality.)


There was something about her.

Something that made the blood in his veins viciously pound throughout his thin but tall body. The funny thing was that she had no idea. She sat there, on the other side of the desk, her pen scratching on her notebook, her tongue sticking out of her mouth at the corner like it always did when she concentrated on something.

— _blood weeping from the deep wound, staining the sheets, staining his white skin —_

His tongue subconsciously flicked out to lick his lips as he watched her, his head tilted down, watching from under his lashes. Finally she set the pen down on the table, crossed her legs, leaned back in her chair and smiled at him. His lips curled into a grin in response. "Morning, Harley," He purred.

She gave him a look and raised her eyebrow. "Mr. Joker," She scolded, the smile still planted on her lips. "You know you aren't supposed to call me that."

— _whimpering, gasping moans filling his ears, a warm body squirming beneath his as his blade stroked through sweet, pink stained flesh —_

He licked his lips again, lacing his fingers together. Joker tilted his head back while his eyelids lowered lazily. "Oh, I know, doll, but I think we both know I don't enjoy following the rules." He flashed a charming smile at her, one that he had realized over time affected her far greater than any word he could say. Her cheeks and neck flushed pink at the probing, rakish grin and she bit the inside of her lip. He wondered if it hurt.

"I've gathered that, yes," She said, suppressing a giggle.

"Harley, dear," He said with a frown. "You know I hate it when you hide your laugh from me."

She gnawed on the tender flesh inside her mouth, wiping her reading glasses on her blouse. "I'm sorry, Mr. Joker," She said, her voice quiet. He exhaled slowly through his nose, trying to calm his racing heart. The images flashing through his head prevented that from happening.

— _black and blue and yellow spots of color decorating pretty skin like a mosaic, small whimpers leaving pouting, bloody lips while he prodded and poked at them —_

"You know, Joker," She said, placing her glasses back on her nose. "It seems to me you've made a lot of progress in the past few weeks. Do you have any idea why that is? The doctors here have been working with you on and off for years." He knew this question would come eventually. The truth was, he hadn't made a bit of progress at all. He just put his play time and tricks on hold for a little while. It was a vacation, really. This was the game he was playing. He couldn't wait until she realized just how much he had _degressed. _

And it was all.

Because.

Of.

Her.

He wasn't sure what made the next picture appear in his head, but he straightened immediately, his spine tensing in response to it.

— _loud, thick screams in his ear, pleading his name, "Mr. J, Mr. J," his hips pounding into another's, fist holding onto blonde pigtails as he jerked her back to growl in her ear —_

A rush of blood filled up his member in his Arkham pajamas, hardening it almost painfully against his thigh. He shifted his hands slowly to cover it up, not wanting her to leave just yet. He couldn't keep himself from lowering his eyebrows in slight confusion. Pigtails? Where had that come from? The image of her in his head was almost too perfect, too delicious, and completely and utterly random. Harley Quinzel, face painted perfectly with white and black, blonde hair pulled up in cute little pigtails, framing that heart-shaped face, screaming _Daddy_… He had to bite his tongue viciously to keep a groan from escaping his lips as his erection throbbed almost painfully. Oh, how he longed to hear her call him that, to beg her Daddy for mercy and for more at the same time as he had his delicious, violent way with her, his favorite blade sliding through her skin…

"Mr. Joker?" She asked, snapping him out of his fantasies. "What are you thinking about?" She asked curiously.

He tasted blood from biting the flesh of his cheek and he prodded it with his tongue. "Sorry, Doc," He said, his voice low, seductive. "Just a little… Preoccupied."


End file.
